


End of Times

by starlightstarshine



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, FOR CENTURIES, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Not really historically accurate, Pining, Religion talk, Swearing, angel!seonghwa, but not really angels and demons, demon!hongjoong, loosely based off on good omens, tags will be added as story progresses, theme too on the dot for 2020 but whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightstarshine/pseuds/starlightstarshine
Summary: Enter a world in which things are run by a book, where the concept of angels and demons isn't so black and white, and despite the world almost ending, Seonghwa and Hongjoong are still refusing to acknowledge their feelings.Alternatively, Seonghwa and Hongjoong are star-crossed lovers of some sorts, Earth’s instructional manual says that the world will expire soon and Yeosang is just trying his best.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Kang Yeosang, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43
Collections: Seongjoong Week 2020





	1. The Apocalypse is Here! The Apocalypse is Here!

The raindrops pelted unto the pavement following the rhythm of the footsteps of the being walking through it. Kim Hongjoong, an immortal and a huge hater of being soaked through with rainwater strode through the empty streets wishing that he had brought his car instead. Or at least an umbrella. Weather on Earth is hugely unpredictable and though he can do many things that humans can only imagine, he cannot predict the weather or control it. 

His black tophat saved his head from getting wet but the mullet that he stubbornly decided to grow suffered in the back. His dark trench coat, his favourite trench coat, absolutely soaked. 

He can simply fashion himself an umbrella out of thin air, or make his car appear, or even create a bubble around him so that the raindrops cannot attack him. However, after the time he was almost burnt at the stake for using his powers in the visibility of humans, he doesn’t like to risk it. Even if the streets are empty, humans have recently created these devices that act as their eyes for when they’re not there. Hongjoong tries really hard not to be bitter about it. 

He rounds the corner and sees an old man standing in the rain holding cardboard up. The man is the only one in the streets, and he stands perfectly still holding the board. It’s eerie. And if Hongjoong were human he would have turned around and walked in the opposite direction. But he isn't so he pays the old man no heed till he comes closer and sees what is written on the board. His steps almost falter in surprise. 

In writing of dripping ink, there’s the message: **The Apocalypse is Here! The Apocalypse is Here!**

When Hongjoong passes by, the man stares at him in utter silence. Hongjoong returns the glance and grimaces. That old man has no idea how right he is. Making it as natural as possible, Hongjoong touches the tip of his hat and flicks his fingers. 

The tin can by the old man’s foot rattles with coins. Hongjoong apologizes to whoever’s piggy bank or cash box he had just stolen the coins from. After all, he can’t make money out of thin air. But he’s sure it won’t be missed greatly, they are still just coins. 

Hongjoong speeds up when he nears his destination. _Times Bookstore_. The best bookstore in the city said to hold any book it’s visitor needs. The only downside is that it's literally open one day a week. Today is one of its closed days but Hongjoong goes up and rings the doorbell anyway. 

He is met with a pair of groggy eyes, a stifled yawn and striped pyjamas that looked way too expensive. 

“Kim Hongjoong,” the wearer of the expensive sleepwear says, “I had a feeling it was you. Is there is a reason why you’re at my door at one am?” 

“Park Seonghwa,” Hongjoong replies roughly, “You seem delightful as always.” 

Seonghwa runs his fingers through his hair tiredly and his eyes roam on Hongjoong’s tense stance, “It is always a gift to see you too Hongjoong, but why are you so wound up? 

Hongjoong raises his head and looks at Seonghwa straight in the eyes. The sharpness of his glance sends shivers down Seonghwa’s spine. 

With the voice as harsh as the wind outside Hongjoong retorts, “Didn’t you feel it? He was born today. The Destroyer of Worlds.” 

The sky explodes in light and thunder cracks. The rain pours down harder. 

The first time Seonghwa meets Hongjoong he’s a mixture of emotions. The sun was glaring down on him making him feel uncomfortable in the white suit he is wearing. Even the wind rushing past him is warm and he tithers on each foot in anticipation. He’s been waiting for way too long. Though it would be expected that someone like _him_ would be late. 

He digs his black shoes onto the sand to stop himself from moving around heedlessly, it’s such a human thing to do, and he’s more than that. He shouldn’t feel these many emotions. 

He quietly watches the waves of the sea crash into the sand. It’s the first time he had seen such blue water up close. He’s so focused on the richness of the sea that he doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching him. 

“Park Seonghwa,” a voice whispers with the wind rushing past him. 

Seonghwa startles and looks away from the sea, and blinks at the being staring at him. 

For being the former leader of a rebellion that still made the higher-ups tremble, Kim Hongjoong is an incredibly delicate-looking man. For one he’s easily shorter than Seonghwa, and something about him just screams _tiny_ and it has nothing to do with his height. His features were sharp but kind and delicate. If Seonghwa were to put it into human-like terms, Hongjoong is simply pretty. Probably the prettiest of their kind that he has seen. 

But what startles Seonghwa the most is that this rebel, the being that most humans (though honestly wrongfully) dub a demon, is staring at him tenderly, almost as if he cared about a stranger that he just met. 

Seonghwa swallows, “I suppose that they have informed you about me. It is nice to meet you Kim Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes twinkle, he steps forward and Seonghwa resists the urge to take a step back, “You remember me?” 

Seonghwa tugs on his suit unconsciously, “No, I was created a few days ago for this particular mission. But I have heard _of_ you.” 

The tenderness in Hongjoong’s eyes disappears. Almost instantly Seonghwa feels a shift in the air, the soft lines on the other’s face that indicated kindness morphed into something hard and rough. Suddenly, Seonghwa sees the rebel Kim Hongjoong, the one that tried to take over and change the way of their kind. The air around him crackled with energy and Seonghwa feels like he was starting to choke in his power. His head feels dizzy with the sudden change between them. 

That shift, the sudden annoyance in Hongjoong’s eyes irritates Seonghwa though a part of him trembles at it. 

“It was expected I suppose,” Hongjoong mumbles, his voice low as if these were words Seonghwa isn’t supposed to hear, “they have sent you here to torture me.” 

Seonghwa feels his temple throb in irritation, “I may be new,” he begins to protest. 

“You’re a baby.”

“- but I know what I’m doing. I will be sure to stop your antics,” Seonghwa finishes off determinedly, his head held high. He will not cower in fear against someone who had betrayed their kind in the name of defending the humans. 

Hongjoong’s eyes narrow, “What makes you think I’m here to do something?” 

Seonghwa purses his lips, “After your banishment you have stayed in the underworld with your rebels, and suddenly you show up on Earth and buy _land_.” 

Hongjoong puts his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, “So what? They figured that I have decided to live on Earth now and they decided to assign me a babysitter who is practically a baby.” 

Seonghwa takes in a deep breath, “They want to make sure that you and your crew won’t make any more trouble. After the Black Plague-”

“Which my crew and I tried to stop.” 

“Well, which you failed to stop, but only after giving them many headaches, they are warier of you. You starting to live on Earth and blend in with humans would obviously just cause more trouble, so they made me and sent me to do the same. To live on Earth and blend in with humans. To keep a watch on you.” 

Hongjoong sniffs, “They have filled you in about my history huh?” 

Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrow, “Well of course they did. I have to know about the person I am supposedly babysitting.” 

Hongjoong snorts and looks away, “That’s why you look so terrified of me. The humans call me a demon after all. I wonder what they say up there.” 

Seonghwa tilts his head, not liking the shift in the other’s tone, “That’s not true. I’m not really that afraid, more like... curious.” _and nervous?_

Hongjoong eyes snap back to the other, slightly wide. He clears his throat and erases the look of surprise off his face, “Well you are more of a fool than you look then.” 

Seonghwa shrugs, “Maybe. But if you are as scary as they say, you would have obliterated me the moment you saw me.” 

Hongjoong smirks wickedly, “How do you know that I’m not going to do that?” 

Seonghwa blinks blankly, to be honest, he doesn’t know Hongjoong enough to be that confident the other wouldn't kill him, and the other is way more powerful than him. Hongjoong has years of experience using his powers to back him up while Seonghwa is basically a newbie. He could obliterate him on the spot if he wanted to. And why wouldn’t he want to? Seonghwa is practically his enemy, a spy sent by ones who most hate him. A future problem that he could easily erase (though there is no saying that the higher-ups wouldn’t send a substitute). 

But Seonghwa didn’t feel like he was going to cease to exist. Though Hongjoong towered over him in everything but height, for some strange reason, Seonghwa wasn’t intimidated. 

Seonghwa scrunches his nose, “Well, are you?” 

Hongjoong sighs as if he was defeated, but Seonghwa didn’t even know they were fighting in the first place. 

It unsettles him. He feels like he’s missing something important like the higher-ups didn’t brief him about something pertinent about Hongjoong. He tugs on the collar of his suit uncomfortably, “I’m curious. Why did you accept the invitation to meet at São Tomé and Príncipe?” _Why did you accept the invitation to meet me?_

What did the higher-ups say to make Kim Hongjoong, of all beings, to follow their instructions? _The_ Kim Hongjoong who doesn’t believe in the rules of the world. 

Hongjoong smirks but his eyes don’t hold the mockery that his mouth does, “Don’t take it personally. I only accepted because São Tomé and Príncipe is beautiful this time of the year.” 

São Tomé and Príncipe, the closest land to the middle of the world. 

Hongjoong looks away at the horizon, the sun is slowly dropping to the sea. Seonghwa follows his glance. 

Seonghwa peers at the orange-ish hue of the shy. The sun saying its goodbyes till the next morning and the sea reflecting it all. 

Earth _is_ a beauty. 

So sure they were enemies, but they were also the only of their kind on Earth at the moment. Hence, without any exchange of words they decided to watch the sun’s farewell, _together_. 

“Didn’t you feel it? He was born today. The Destroyer of Worlds,” Seonghwa hears Hongjoong say, and everything slots into place. 

No wonder he is so wound up. 

Seonghwa opens the door wider with a soft smile gracing his features, “First come inside it’s raining pretty hard today.” Hongjoong scoffs and steps inside, bringing in a wet trail. He takes off his top hat and shakes his head to ward off the raindrops clinging unto his hair. Seonghwa bites his lips to stop himself from laughing at how the gesture is so cat-like, like a disgruntled cat who has just caught itself in the rain.

“Should I bring you a towel?” Seonghwa asks, locking the door behind him. 

Hongjoong glares at him, “No I don’t need a towel Seonghwa. The Destroyer of Worlds was just born today.” 

_Oh it’s going to be difficult to bring him away from this mood._

“Well technically it’s The Destroyer of World, only one world is going to be destroyed,” Seonghwa corrects as he leads Hongjoong to the seating area of the bookstore. 

He plops on the couch and gestures Hongjoong to sit on the couch across from him. Hongjoong obliges but not before throwing him a dirty glance. 

“Earth is going to be destroyed,” Hongjoong reiterates, “We have to do something.” 

Seonghwa sighs, he feels tiredness seep through his bones which is ridiculous because his kind is not supposed to get tired. Sleep is supposed to be just a luxury to a being like him. But these days he feels exhausted and Hongjoong coming to his place with a ridiculous request is not helping.  
  
“No Hongjoong, I will not do anything. If anything I will stop you from doing something. That is my job. I make sure that what is written in the book happens, remember?” 

Oh _the book_. The reason why Hongjoong rebelled. The reason why he was kicked out of the above and sent below. 

Also the reason for Seonghwa’s and Hongjoong’s existence.

With the creation of humankind, a book was written. Inside it is every single thing that could possibly happen and the job of their kind is to make sure that what the book has written happens. Even if the book says destruction and doom for humankind, it is their kind’s job to ensure that the humans follow the path laid out for them. The higher-ups are obsessed with rules and instruction, and the book is like an instruction manual for Earth. Hongjoong had disagreed with the whole practice, and the rest was history. 

Hongjoong scrunches his nose and Seonghwa’s heart clenches at how cute it is, “I thought we were past all that. Are we really going to do this little dance that we always do? Earth is at stake.” 

Seonghwa rests his elbow on the arm of the couch and places his chin on the palm of his hand. The storm outside rages on and Seonghwa feels an echo of it within himself. Hongjoong has always had that effect on him. He was constantly battling something inside him when he was with Hongjoong. 

“From what I recall,” Seonghwa replies trying to choose his words carefully, “You have never won these dances Hongjoong. The book is always right.” He feels like a broken record player, he has probably said these words to Hongjoong a billion of times. He doesn’t know why he bothers when Hongjoong has never listened to anything but his own heart. 

Though this conversation is familiar, it still feels stilted. Hongjoong has never asked Seonghwa for help before. He had never even asked Seonghwa to turn the other cheek to his antics. 

Hongjoong’s hands balled into fists, his face contorts and it almost looks like he is in pain, “This is the end of the world Seonghwa. I can not let the book be right about this. Which is why I need you to be on _my_ side.” 

Seonghwa rubs his face tiredly and he feels a sense of urgency hum within him. He needs to shut down this idea before he actually is compelled to do what Hongjoong is asking of him.

“You’re asking me to defy the higher-ups,” he retorts more harshly than he wants to, “To rebel against my own kind like you once had.” 

Hongjoong shrinks at the last sentence, “You know I wouldn’t ask you of that if I didn’t have another choice. I know you love Earth as much as I do. I know you don’t want to see it destroyed.” 

But what one wants and what one needs to do are two completely different things. The storm within Seonghwa rages on and he gets up and steps forward. Toward Hongjoong. 

He is so tired of this conversation already. He feels like they would just go in circles and get nowhere. He reaches toward Hongjoong and gently takes the end of a few strands of his hair in between his fingertips. 

“I think you need to dry your hair,” he mumbles, “it’s still wet.” 

Hongjoong catches the hand moving against his hair by the wrist and holds it tight, “The humans call you guys, the ones that are from the above, angels. Would an angel let the world get destroyed?” 

Seonghwa sighs and gently removes Hongjoong’s fingers from his wrist, “We are not responsible to how the humans have decided to divide our kind. Just as how they have misconceived you to be the devil, they mistake me for an angel with expectations that I can’t fulfill. Hongjoong please just drop this. Just enjoy Earth while you can.” 

Hongjoong abruptly stands up, his mouth set into a thin line and his stare cold. Seonghwa feels irritated at himself for bringing such a look on the other’s face. Hongjoong crosses his arms across his chest and his mouth scowls in stubbornness. He tilts his head upward so that their noses are just centimetres away from touching. Centuries ago Seonghwa would have cowered at such assertiveness, but now Seonghwa knows better, he knows Hongjoong better. He knows that the tough stance Hongjoong is displaying is just a cover-up for how hurt he is by Seonghwa’s rejection. 

Seonghwa resists the urge to press his hands on the smaller’s face in an attempt to smooth out the hard lines and wrinkles gracing it. 

“Whatever I don’t need you anyway, I have a crew to back me up,” Hongjoong bites out, “A team that believes that Earth is worth saving.” 

Seonghwa winces. Hongjoong’s words were meant to hurt, and it did. 

“That’s not fair,” Seonghwa whispers, his eyes pleading, “Hongjoong just-”

Hongjoong moves away from Seonghwa and heads towards the door, “No it’s not fair. But so isn’t letting the Earth destroy itself. Good luck trying to stop me this time.” 

“Hongjoong it’s raining outside, stay the night.” 

The door slams shut and Seonghwa wilts. Hongjoong didn’t even say goodbye. 

Seonghwa rubs his eyes and walks towards the cash register counter. He messily writes himself a note to contact the higher-ups in the morning about Hongjoong's plans to stop the apocalypse. 

He doesn’t let himself feel the guilt. He has a job to do. Just like how Hongjoong has pretty unconventional beliefs, Seonghwa has unbearable duties. 

Underneath the counter is some of Seonghwa’s personal favourite books, ones that he isn’t willing to sell. Among them is _the_ book. For holding all the events of the world, it was surprisingly thin. 

He heaves it to the counter and flips to the last page. He stares at the last sentence and runs his index finger across it. He desperately wishes that he could erase the sentence, just like how he wishes to erase the tension and worry from Hongjoong’s face. 

He stares at it blankly for the rest of the night because it’s not like he could rest after the night he just had. 

“ ** _The Destroyer of Worlds_** ,” the sentence reads, “ ** _Kang Yeseong, will bring an end to the world as we know it._ **” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so begins a new chaptered fic!!! Pls leave some comments and kudos if you have liked this fic!! 
> 
> this fic has quite a bit of world building so if ur confused about some aspects it could be slowly revealed throughout future chapters!!! 
> 
> follow me on @starlightstars_ for some updates or just if u wanna interact!!! 
> 
> just a heads up next chapter is woosang but it’s probably gonna be the only chapter that mainly focuses on that couple instead of seongjoong (this fic was created for seongjoong week after all XD) 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and see you in the future chapters!!


	2. The Destroyer of World(s)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been a while since i updated the story since i lost inspiration but i hate leaving works uncompleted so I'm going to try again. there might be some small inconsistencies from this first chapter since initially i had a way bigger and more complicated storyline 
> 
> hope it still turns out alright tho 
> 
> here's the second chapter, it's woosang focused but the future chapters will go back to mainly seongjoong

Kang Yeosang’s earliest memory was when he was a few months old. Which most people suppose is utter bullshit because you’re not supposed to remember anything before three, but Yeosang has always been a special case. He remembers a dark hat, bright eyes and a grim frown. A hand slowly reaching for him before retreating at the last second. He had told his mom about it once when he was young and naive. His mother had stared at him wide-eyed and then locked herself in the bedroom. He could hear her chanting prayers from the outside. That’s all she would do sometimes. 

_Devil’s child._

That’s what she called him. His life went downhill from two years old when he started making the toys in his crib float in the air.

There isn’t a priest that hasn’t visited him, he practically bathes in holy water and he attends church every day in the hopes that whatever it is that he has would one day go away and make him normal. 

Whatever the definition of normal is. 

On the morning of Yeosang’s 18th birthday, he finds that his mother has locked herself in her room again. He stares at the bedroom door for a couple of minutes in deep thought. His hands balled up in a fist mid-air as he hesitates to knock on the door. 

“Yeosang,” a voice from the other side of the door calls softly pulling Yeosang out of his thoughts. 

Yeosang puts his hand down, “Yeah mom,” he answers. 

“Did you do your prayers this morning?” 

He sighs, closing his eyes as if doing so would make her voice vanish and wither away, “Yes I did mom.” 

“D-did anything happen tonight?” His mom asks her voice pins and needles to her son’s ears. 

Well, nothing aside from waking up and seeing that all his books were hanging midair, which isn't bad compared to what he woke up to other mornings. 

But Yeosang has more sense than to say that aloud so he answers, “Nope, everything is normal.” 

There’s a pause and Yeosang feels his shoulders loosen. He opens his eyes and stares at the locked door in front of him, he hears footsteps getting closer from the other end of the door and his heart lifts with the thought of his mother unlocking the door to greet him. 

But instead, he hears the screech of nail on wood, a slow drag of it across the door paired with an inhuman howl of anger. 

Yeosang doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even make a single movement and just stares at the door in nonchalance. 

“Liar,” a growl escapes from the other side followed by harsh thumps, “Liar. Liar! LIAR!” 

Yeosang sighs, and walks away as the thumping continues, each thump louder than the last. His footsteps don’t falter even as the thumps get louder, instead, they get stronger as he gets more and more determined that the path he will be taking will be the right one. 

He would really have liked to say goodbye. But it is what it is. 

He slings the duffel bag he packed last night across his shoulder. The bag light despite the fact that it held all his essential belongings and all his life savings. 

He pauses on the way out by the kitchen. He grabs two granola bars from the box on an otherwise empty countertop and walks away. The thumping grows quieter and quieter as he steps out of the house. When he closes the door behind him he takes in a deep breath, feeling like he could finally breathe freely after a long time. 

He walks away with an unusual lightness to his step, and he stares off at the sunrise with a smile so bright that it rivalled the rising run. 

_Is this what it feels like to fly?_

He closes his eyes and lets the morning wind rush past him, finally understanding the freedom that the wind has as it skitters through the air. 

He relishes in the warmth of the peaking sun, the gentle heat tickling his skin and causing his smile to grow wider. 

_Has it always been so warm here?_

He looks around at the towering houses, the unusually neatly kept lawns and the gnarly trees that guarded each one, and suddenly the place that once seemed intimidating is now just… mediocre, forgettable. 

It’s amazing how the scenery changes once you know that you never need to come back. 

His pace quickens towards the start of something brand new. A release from the shackles of his past. 

He’s leaving everything and running away. 

Well, almost. 

After all, not _everything_ in his godforsaken life has been miserable. 

Jung Wooyoung is not a morning person. 

He’s waiting at the bus station barely able to keep his eyes open. Stifling a yawn he rightens the heavy backpack on his shoulder and leans against the pole near him. He’s almost about to pass out right there and then but a voice calls out to him, 

“Jung Wooyoung!” 

He turns towards the voice, and immediately as if it were magic, his tiredness falls away and a lazy grin replaces his downturned lips. 

Kang Yeosang runs up to him with what Wooyoung could only describe wearing the smile of an angel. An easy lift of his lips, and an expression so relaxed and content that Wooyoung slightly aches at the fact that he didn’t get to see such a face on the other before. 

“Wooyoung,” Yeosang huffs as he reaches him, “you look like a mess.” 

And a mess he looked like indeed, as Wooyoung did not have time or even care enough to brush his hair, hence causing it to stick up in places that Yeosang didn’t even know was possible. The added black bags underneath his eyes did him no favours either, however, those were inevitable as Wooyoung stayed up most of last night, equal parts nervous and excited for his endeavours the next day. 

Wooyoung knows that he looks like a mess but having Yeosang straightforwardly say that to him causes him to flush a little as he harshly pats down his hair. He’s quite accustomed to the straightforward nature of his friend but even so, he gets caught off guard here and there. 

“I’m hungry,” he grumbles, and Yeosang nods as if he expected it and hands him over a granola bar from his pocket, which Wooyoung saves in his backpack for when the hunger becomes unbearable. 

Yeosang's grin grows wider, “You ready?” 

Wooyoung grins back, “Been ready since yesterday. You?” 

“Been ready for years,” he extends his hand and Wooyoung takes it easily, “let’s go get a ticket to the place furthest from this hell.” 

Yeosang’s birthday starts like this: with rocks thrown at his window. 

When he looked out to see the culprit he saw Wooyoung grinning up at him sheepishly, wearing a black hoodie and in his hand was what Yeosang can only make out to be a smushed up cupcake. 

One second Yeosang is in the house staring out the window from the inside of the upstairs of his shabby house (that could probably crumble with a slight shove) and the next second he’s outside in front of Wooyoung, slightly shivering in the chilly air of a summer night. 

“You know, no matter how many times you do that cool shit I still get amazed,” Wooyoung mutters in awe. 

Yeosang’s lips lift slightly, it’s always refreshing to hear someone refer to his _strangeness_ as cool, “It’s late Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung extends the cupcake towards him with a bright grin, “Happy birthday Yeosang.” 

Yeosang looks at the cupcake and his eyes narrow but the slight smile doesn’t fall from his lips, “Did you steal this?” 

It looks like a cupcake straight from the shelves of a bakery, despite the fact that it is almost crushed in Wooyoung’s hands. At the top is a beautiful swirl of baby blue icing sprinkled with a dash of coloured sprinkles in the shape of stars. Yeosang’s mouth waters at the sight. 

“No,” Wooyoung insists. 

Yeosang stares at him in silence. 

“Yes,” Wooyoung admits after a moment. 

Yeosang takes it anyway even though he really shouldn’t encourage Wooyoung’s habit of stealing, but it’s his birthday so he supposes it’s an exception. 

He splits the cupcake and offers the other half to Wooyoung and they both settle by the porch. The darkness due to his house’s lack of exterior light giving them privacy. 

They sit in silence as they eat their share of the cupcake. As Yeosang swallows his last bite he says, 

“I’m leaving today morning. I’m running away.” 

It aches his heart to say it out loud, feeling like it’s a final goodbye. But before Yeosang could continue and reassure the other that he will be willing to come back to this shithole to get Wooyoung once he’s ready, Wooyoung interrupts, 

“Okay I’m coming with you,” he retorts, voice determined and final. 

Yeosang looks over at him, slightly alarmed “You’re not 18 yet Wooyoung.” 

“So?” 

“You’re still a minor, they would go looking for you.” 

Wooyoung laughs humorlessly, “You’re really going to think anybody is going to notice that I am missing. My family barely acknowledges my existence right now.” 

Yeosang winces though the news of Wooyoung’s family and their cruelty is no surprise to him, “I’m leaving in the morning,” he informs quietly, “at the break of dawn I’m going to just catch any bus out of here.” 

Wooyoung swallows the last bit of his cupcake, “Sounds good to me,” he retorts with his mouth full. 

Yeosang shakes his head at his messiness. He reaches forward to wipe the smear of icing by the side of the other’s lips. Wooyoung’s eyes carefully follow the movement and Yeosang pauses with his thumb by the other’s lips, aware of Wooyoung’s intense gaze. 

His eyes meet Wooyoung’s and they stare at each other. Yeosang with his heart in his throat. Wooyoung with a gaze as fervent as a thousand burning suns. 

Somewhere around them a dog barks. 

Startled Yeosang blinks and looks away, removing his hands as if he had been burnt. 

“The icing,” he mumbles, unable to meet Wooyoung’s eyes. 

Wooyoung clears his throat, brings the cuff of his sleeve to his mouth and harshly wipes at it. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles. 

Then as if nothing happened Wooyoung goes on a ramble about a cat he saw on the street on the way here, his story a tad bit descriptive and a hundred percent over-exaggerated. But Yeosang enjoys it, he loves hearing Wooyoung talk. As a person of a few words, he prefers listening and the enthusiastic colour of Wooyoung’s voice as he rants excitedly about anything is Yeosang’s favourite sound in the world. 

Wooyoung only stops talking when the neighbour's dog starts barking relentlessly. Afraid that if someone were to wake up due to barks and look outside to see the two of them sitting too close in the dark, Wooyoung returns home and Yeosang goes back to his room. Both of their hearts eager to see each other the next morning. 

“Is there anywhere you want to go?” Yeosang asks while staring at the huge map in front of them, all confusing with the mess of lines. 

Wooyoung doesn’t even spare a glance at the map and instead stares at Yeosang, gleefully taking in the bright expression on his friend’s face, “Anywhere. I don’t care.” 

Yeosang looks over the map, slightly overwhelmed by all the possibilities. He has half the mind to just close his eyes and jab his finger somewhere in the middle of the map to decide his fate. 

But before he could do so he hears footsteps quietly creep up behind him, paired with the dull thunk of a cane. To any other ears the sound would have been completely unnoticed, but to Yeosang who spent his entire life wary of footsteps coming near him immediately whips his head towards the direction of the noise.

Wooyoung, who held a similar form of wariness (as footsteps meant that he had gotten caught in whatever misdemeanour he was up to that day), also turned towards the sound, his fists automatically curling up as if a fight would break out. 

Luckily for both of them, the person standing before them neither wanted to nor could start a brawl with them. After all, in front of them is an old man who practically had to lean his whole body unto his cane to stand before them. 

“Interesting to see you two here,” the man greets in a gruff voice. But despite the brusqueness in tone, the old man’s eyes are wrinkled, his eyes are half-moon crescents as he smiles widely at the two of them through the white beard that covers half his face. 

Yeosang easily lifts his lips into a smile at the friendly face, “Surprised to see you here too. Don’t you usually roam around the park?” 

The old man stares off into space wistfully, “Wanted a change of scenery. I suppose you are looking for something similar.” 

Yeosang nods with his heart in his throat. He doesn’t exactly remember when he met the old man, just that he was young and walking around the park mindlessly when he saw the old man curled up by the park bench. When the old man looked at Yeosang for the first time his eyes seemed so familiar that Yeosang had ended up sitting next to him and striking a conversation. 

It also helped that unlike many others the old man did not flinch at the sight of Yeosang. 

Wooyoung had also grown a liking towards the old man, anyone who is friendly towards Yeosang, a friend for him. 

“Did you eat old man?” Wooyoung asks casually. 

The old man shakes his head so Wooyoung hands him the granola bar that he saved for himself. 

The old man receives it thankfully and gives him a knowing look, “I hope you did not steal this, it is not a good habit to have Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung looks away, ashamed even though the granola bar itself wasn’t stolen, “Whatever,” he mumbles back. 

The old man turns towards Yeosang, “Do you know where you are going?” 

“Nope,” Yeosang admits. 

The old man chuckles, “That’s the exciting part, isn't it? You have all the world to explore, and the freedom of choice. Well, at least the illusion of it.” 

Yeosang doesn’t pry too much into the last part. Sometimes the old man like all old men sprouts nonsensical statements that, like for all young people, go in one of Yeosang’s ear and come out the other. 

“Might I recommend a place?” the old man continues. 

The two boys nod eagerly. 

Clearing his throat the old man says, “There is this nice bookshop in New York City. Used to be one of my favourites to visit when I was more able. Times Bookstore. It is said to have every book a visitor needs. Which I found to be surprisingly true. Maybe you’ll find the answer to your destiny there. It’s a pretty magical bookstore.” 

Wooyoung’s nose wrinkles, “A bookstore? Why would we go to a _bookstore_?” 

But Yeosang’s eyes light up at the prospect so Wooyoung quiets, “Where is it?” the older boy asks eagerly. 

The old man points to a place on the map, and it was decided. 

Times Bookstore will be their destination. 

Though Wooyoung isn't quite happy about their first destination being a bookstore, he gets over it when Yeosang shares half of his granola bar with him. 

And when the bus takes off and leads them to a newer future, both their hearts are light and giddy with joy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is one of the more shorter chapters of this fic, i will try to keep updates for this fic as regular as possible (perhaps bi-weekly updates on Friday). see you in the next chapter :)
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/starlightstars_)   
>  [cc](https://curiouscat.me/starlightstarshine)   
> 


	3. The Uncanny Encounter

Despite the fact that he is closed today, Park Seonghwa finds himself being pulled back to reality by harsh knocks on his bookstore door. Sighing, he puts away the book that he was reading to get it. Every time he hears a knock during non-business hours a sprout of hope appears, which only gets stomped on when he realizes that the person on the other end of the door is not who he wishes to see. 

He opens the door nonetheless with hope in his heart, and disappointment in the backburner. 

Disappointment however does not come as he stares down at a slouched old man with beautifully familiar eyes. 

“Hongjoong,” he sighs out as a greeting. 

Hongjoong doesn’t even bother with pleasantries as he pushes past the other inside, rambling like the senile old man that he’s disguised as. 

“Why is it so fucking hot in June? Almost didn’t make it here on time because of it. They should be here soon. Oh boy, they should be here soon. What shall we do when they come? Do you have food at your place? Ugh stupid question, of course, you have it. You love food even though we technically don’t need to eat …” 

As Hongjoong rambles on, Seonghwa calmly locks the door behind them. He turns towards the fumbling Hongjoong in front of him who is now pacing around the room, waving his cane around as he talks. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says gently in the midst of the rambles, slightly amused by the view, “will you please calm down.” 

Hongjoong pauses in the middle of his incredibly long sentence and gives the other an incredulous look, “How can I calm down right now? Do you have any idea what’s going to happen?” 

“No, actually I don't since you did not bother to explain yourself or what’s going on.” 

Though Seonghwa says it in the most settled tone he could muster, Hongjoong recognizes a hint of agitation in the words. 

“Are you mad at me?” Hongjoong asks, seemingly offended by the notion. 

Seonghwa tries very hard not to roll his eyes but he can’t help the sarcasm that rolls out of his tongue at the question, “No I am not. After all, all you did was ignore me for 18 years then come in here as an old man talking about who knows what expecting me to have a clue.” 

Hongjoong frowns, “We have gone longer without seeing each other. I slept for most of the 18th century.” 

“Just because you were asleep, does not mean that _I_ did not see you or keep tabs on you,” Seonghwa slips up, closing his mouth in horror a bit too late after mentioning too much. 

Hongjoong’s mouth opens, blinking in surprise for a few seconds before his mouth closes and slips into a deeper frown than before, “You kept tabs on me? Good to know that they gave the _right_ angel the job.”

Seonghwa purses his lips, “You know that’s not the reason why.” 

“Oh, I beg to differ,” Hongjoong retorts as irritation easily builds up inside of him as it often does. 

“Do not pretend to be ignorant Hongjoong,” Seonghwa bites back, unable to soothe down the aggravation that this conversation is bringing him, “it does not suit you.”

Hongjoong’s irritation quickly washes away with those words, replacing it with shame as he looks away. Seonghwa takes in a deep breath as the tension quickly leaves him too 

“Why did you not look for me then,” Hongjoong inquires quietly, unable to meet Seonghwa’s eyes, “if you were so _concerned_?” 

Seonghwa sighs, “Because you did not want to be found,” he replies quietly, his fingers itching to touch the other, “and I did not want to anger you further than I already had.” 

Hongjoong meets Seonghwa’s earnest eyes and snorts, “I was not mad at you.” 

Seonghwa opens his mouth to protest but Hongjoong interrupts, “I was not. I was just frustrated,” Hongjoong looks away again, this time more bashful, “I can not… I can not get mad at you.” 

Before either of them could fully dissect that sentence there's another knock at the door. 

Hongjoong’s eyes blow up comically wide. 

“They’re here,” he whispers, “Seonghwa, hurry and open the door.” 

Seonghwa really wants to question Hongjoong about who the ‘they” are, but he simply complies with the request, because it’s Hongjoong. 

When he opens the door he meets two young boys looking up at him in confusion, with honest surprise on their face that someone had opened the door. 

One of them has platinum blond hair; neatly combed but overgrown, uneven at the sides as if the boy himself had cut it causing it to grow wonky. He has doe-shaped eyes that shone with genuine innocence and a pale complexion that reminds Seonghwa of pure snow. His eyes catch a pink mark at the corner of the young boy’s eye and a similar one on the same side of his head. Seonghwa’s nerves stand on end, thinking of it as a bruise but he quickly realizes it to be a unique birthmark. Nonetheless, something about the boy seems battered, and Seonghwa feels a strong urge to wrap up the boy in a huge blanket and offer him some hot chocolate. 

The other boy by his door is more or less the opposite. He has jet black hair that is also quite long, but unlike the blonde next to him his hair is unkempt, sticking up in odd places as if he could not be bothered to brush or even pat it down. He is standing with his arms across his chest, and his fist clenched as if he’s ready to throw a punch if the situation calls for it. In contrast to the blond whose eyes were open and honest, this boy’s glance is hard and closed off. In a strange way he reminded Seonghwa of Hongjoong. 

“Ummm,” the blond says, “the door says you are closed-” 

“Yes,” Seonghwa interrupts, “we are closed.” 

“No, we’re not!” Hongjoong yells from behind him. 

Alarmed Seonghwa turns around to find that Hongjoong had stripped away the old man disguise. He’s buttoning up the cuff of a white button-down t-shirt that’s paired with suspenders and black dress pants. The mullet Seonghwa saw 18 years ago is cut, and replacing it is short white hair, the same ivory white as the old man’s beard. The hair is mostly swept up, leaving tiny bits of his bangs to frame his face. 

For a second Seonghwa forgets how to speak, his brain caught on how dashing Hongjoong looks. 

Hongjoong glares pointedly at the door, and at this point Seonghwa is on autopilot. His brain still stuck on Kim Hongjoong. A feat that occurs way too often. 

He turns back to the boys and distractedly says, “Yeah you can come in.” 

The black-haired boy’s eyes narrow, “So are you closed or not?” 

“It’s um…” 

In the midst of Seonghwa’s brain malfunction, Hongjoong walks up behind him and offers the two boys a bright smile. 

“We’re open,” he pats Seonghwa’s shoulder, “forgive him he’s had a rough morning,” noticing the closed sign by the door he adds, “he also forgot to change the sign,” 

The blond turns to the boy next to him, “See, I told you we should just try and knock.” 

The other boy looks at Seonghwa and Hongjoong with distrust, his eyes particularly examining over Seonghwa in suspicion. Which cannot be blamed because Seonghwa at the moment is completely zoned out, his brain replaying the moment of Hongjoong buttoning up his cuffs while looking the way he does. 

“Well, come in!” Hongjoong invites the two in, widening the door. 

Seonghwa leaves room for the two to push through, and with the boys’ back turned towards them Hongjoong gives Seonghwa a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ stare as he shuts the door. 

Seonghwa could only stare back helplessly. He can’t exactly say, _I’m drooling over the way you look right now, so my brain won’t be available for a couple of hours.’_

Hongjoong must have taken Seonghwa’s lack of response for confusion, because he grabs Seonghwa by the wrist and says to their guests, “Look around kids, we’ll be at the back. Don’t steal anything, we have cameras!” 

He drags Seonghwa to the back room behind the counter. It’s a tight space. Most of the room is taken by a table filled with papers of administrative work that comes with owning a bookstore. This leaves just enough room for two beings to be squished together, chest to chest. 

With the lack of space Hongjoong’s hands hover above Seonghwa’s hips. Seonghwa keeps his hands firmly by his sides. His heart in his throat. 

The room is dimly lit by a lightbulb hanging over them, and even in that low light, Hongjoong looks beautiful. 

“Seonghwa what is wrong with you?” Hongjoong hisses. 

_I’m currently raving over how beautiful you look and I haven’t seen you in 18 years. And though that is barely two decades, it feels to me like I haven’t seen you in a couple of centuries, so how dare you have the audacity to look the way that you do? So really what is wrong with you?_

Seonghwa isn't saying all that though, but he thinks it. 

Thankfully Seonghwa’s brain finally kickstarts back to work and the previous minutes of events catch up to him, “What is going on Hongjoong? You know these kids?” 

Hongjoong bites his lips, “Well sort of. Yes. I mean I know them but they don’t know me. Well, technically they know me-” 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa stops him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “you’re not making any sense.” 

A large clash outside the room interrupts them. Sighing, Hongjoong opens the door and both Seonghwa’s and Hongjoong’s heads peek out. They find the blond staring down at a small pile of fallen books in guilt. The darker-haired one stares at the pile in annoyance, as if it fell on their own. 

Noticing the glance of someone else the blond looks up to find Hongjoong and Seonghwa staring at them, “Sorry I- I accidentally knocked into it,” he says, troubled. 

“It’s not your fault,” the boy next to him defends, “this whole place is designed so shittily.” 

Which Seonghwa admits, is true. He didn’t have a lot of space to work with and he had a lot of books. So he ended up having bookshelves upon bookshelves closely next to each other, with just barely enough space for a human being to walk through them. And with the books he could not put on shelves he just piled them high on any free space on the floor. 

The only slightly free space in the bookstore is the small area in front of the counter and the door, plus the very small seating area at the corner of the store. 

But the tightness of the space just adds to the ambiance of coziness. Or at least that’s what Seonghwa thinks of it. Apparently not the boy though. 

“Don’t say that Wooyoung,” the blond chastises the other, “that’s rude.” 

Wooyoung shrugs carelessly, “Whatever Yeosang you know it’s true. Magical bookstore my ass.” 

_Yeosang?_

Seonghwa pales. 

“Well don’t worry about it,” Hongjoong reassures. Yeosang looks anxiously between Seonghwa and Hongjoong, the drastic change in Seonghwa’s expression making him think that he’s in trouble, which technically he isn’t, at least not for the reason he thinks he is.

“We’ll be out soon, take your time looking at the books,” Hongjoong continues, realizing that Seonghwa is practically frozen in his spot, staring at Yeosang as if he’s seeing a ghost. 

Hongjoong closes the door quickly and Seonghwa turns towards Hongjoong in disbelief. 

“Yeosang is not a common name,” he manages to state weakly. His heart shuddering widely in his chest, not expecting for the very cause of the end of human existence to be a very weak-looking innocent kid. 

Hongjoong raises his hands in defence, “I can explain. So basically I have been following the Destroyer of Worlds around since he was a baby-” 

“You have been doing _what_!? 

“- to see how exactly this person is going to eventually destroy the world. But Seonghwa he’s literally just a kid and he and his friend decided to run away from home-” 

“Hongjoong -” 

“- but don’t worry he’s over 18 so technically _he’s_ allowed. So I led him here so we can help him. We can help prevent whatever causes him to destroy the world. _We_ can help save the world.” 

Seonghwa stares at the other, completely baffled. Never would he have thought that he would end up with the Destroyer of Worlds in such close proximity. Seonghwa has half the mind to dismiss the whole idea and kick everyone out, his nerves standing on end by just having someone so powerful close by. Someone who is essentially a ticking time bomb and eventually going to blow Earth apart in some form. 

But Hongjoong is staring at him with such hope like he actually believes that this absurd plan could work. That they could actually change what’s written in the book. That they could change fate. It feels like a repeat of the scene from 18 years ago and Seonghwa is growing exhausted from constantly being pulled in so many directions. 

Seonghwa takes in a deep breath, ready to express the absurdity of this entire situation to Hongjoong but before he could say anything Hongjoong softly adds, 

“You saw him Seonghwa, he’s _human_ , and he is just a kid. ” 

And that shakes Seonghwa’s resolve. 

Because Kang Yeosang is _just_ a kid. A very human kid despite his special abilities. 

A doe-eyed innocent-looking kid who was trembling after accidentally knocking over some books. How does it make any sense that this kid is the Destroyer of Worlds? 

Seonghwa closes his eyes, “I will have to inform the higher-ups of your plan,” he finally says after a long beat of silence. 

“I don’t care if you inform them. Are you going to help me or not?” 

_Help in what?_ Seonghwa wants to ask. He couldn’t really see how having Kang Yeosang in his book store is going to change anything. Nothing written in the book ever changes. It is what makes Hongjoong’s attempts of changing fate so foolish yet admirable. 

Only someone as thick-headed as he is would continuously ram into a door to open it despite the fact that it’s actually a wall. 

But going down that rabbit hole seems to be a very tiring prospect for an already exhausting day. 

“I’ll help,” Seonghwa finally says, opening his eyes and letting a deep breath out. 

Hongjoong grins widely, his face practically glowing from happiness and he pats Seonghwa’s shoulder, “I know you would come around eventually.” 

Seonghwa rolls his eyes but he can’t help a smile from escaping his lips at the happiness on the other’s face. But the tightness in his chest grows, feeling that the happiness will be short-lived and that whatever plan that Hongjoong has is going to inevitably fail like it always does. 

If only he could keep the smile on Hongjoong’s face longer. 

If only his job wasn’t to ensure that there would be no reason for Hongjoong to smile. 

They step out of the backroom and see the two boys scouring through a book pile close to the one that fell previously. Yeosang was gingerly picking up each book and opening it to scan a few pages before placing it back while Wooyoung was roughly picking up each book to only look at its cover before carelessly putting it down. 

“Those books cost a fortune,” Seonghwa comments while watching the way Wooyoung was treating the books. 

Wooyoung couldn’t even be bothered to try to look ashamed as he just shrugs and mumbles an empty apology. Noticing that Yeosang sends him a pointed glare. Wooyoung replies to that with another sheepish shrug. For some reason, this sends both of them into a fit of giggles. 

Seonghwa looks over at Hongjoong, waiting for him to say something and start whatever plan he has to save the world. But Hongjoong is just staring at the two kids with absolute amusement in his eyes which Seonghwa can not blame him for. He himself rejoices in the innocence and youthfulness that radiated off the two of them. 

But sometimes Hongjoong gets too carried away with humans and their emotions. For centuries he would find Hongjoong just standing there watching as humans laughed, fought, rejoiced, and wept with the same look of amusement in his eyes. 

“It’s amazing that they could feel so much,” Hongjoong would say when Seonghwa asked him why he was engrossed with them at such moments.

Seonghwa could only stare blankly at him in answer, a retort at the tip of his tongue that he was always too afraid to say, _“I feel that much too when I’m with you.”_

It’s been a couple of centuries since that conversation, yet it still remains true. His affection for Hongjoong is blooming in his chest as he watches Hongjoong regard the humans with such fondness. Yet knowing that those same humans were his downfall and would continue to be his shortcoming causes a lump to grow in his throat. 

Shifting his attention back to the younger two Seonghwa calmly asks, “Is there any particular book you are looking for?” 

It’s a basic question, a question he has asked plenty as a bookshop owner. 

“No,” Yeosang answers while tightening the strap of his duffel bag, “just looking around,” 

It’s at that moment that Seonghwa finally registers that Yeosang has a duffel bag slung across his shoulder while Wooyoung is wearing a heavy-looking backpack. 

_“He and his friend decided to run away from home.”_ Hongjoong had told him earlier. 

Seonghwa purses his lips in thought. 

_Did these kids even plan on where they would be staying for the night? They can’t just wander around aimlessly forever. One night alone in the streets of New York and they would be scarred forever._

Naturally, a motherly instinct takes over Seonghwa. He can’t help the huge wave of worry that washes over him at the thought of these two kids stranded in such a big city. 

“Do you two have anywhere to stay the night?” he asks in concern. 

Wooyoung glares at him, “That’s none of your business.” 

Seonghwa narrows his eyes, his suspicion confirmed and his concern growing, “It is when it looks like you two are barely adults and obviously alone.” 

The change in the air is instant, both Yeosang and Wooyoung freeze at his words. Even Hongjoong does for a moment before giving Seonghwa a look that clearly indicated that he said something wrong. 

Wooyoung and Yeosang glance at each other, and if Seonghwa was a normal human being he would have taken that glance for what it looked like: two friends looking at each other in surprise as if they were caught. 

But from his centuries of observing humans he’s quite well versed in reading the words said in a glance, and very clearly the glance said, 

_“Run.”_

Before Seonghwa could stop them, Hongjoong knocks roughly into the bookshelf next to him. Seonghwa is so surprised by the action that he doesn't have time to react as the bookshelf tilts, his mind already tired from just the thought of the mess that it would create. 

But the bookshelf doesn’t crash onto the floor like Seonghwa expects it to and like it normally should as the law of physics of Earth meant it to. 

Instead, the bookshelves freeze mid tilt, hanging still at the very edge and the books that were falling off it frozen in place. Some that were in the midst of falling to the ground, its pages that were flipping in the air, still. 

_Ah right,_ Seonghwa thinks, _the Destroyer of Worlds is in this room._

For a second they all look at each other. Wooyoung in alarm, and Yeosang with utter panic. Hongjoong regards the whole scene with interest, while Seonghwa looks more tired than anything. 

Unfortunately due to the immense dread that takes over Yeosang due to using his abilities in front of strangers, he drops the bookshelf to the ground, like it should have if he hadn’t interfered. 

Seonghwa sighs at the mess on the ground, hating gravity. 

There’s the squeak of shoes and neither Seonghwa nor Hongjoong are surprised to see the younger two bolting towards the door. 

But they stop dead in their tracks by the time they reach the exit, their ears catching the sound of fluttering pages and the shuffle of wood. 

They turn around to find the bookshelf righten itself back to place. The books lift off the ground and slots themselves back on the shelves, in the exact order it was before. 

Seonghwa is in the middle of all of it with his hand raised, waving his fingers as everything goes back to its place. 

Both Wooyoung’s and Yeosang’s jaws drop to the floor. The identical expressions of surprise on both their faces are almost comical. 

“I could have done it,” Hongjoong slightly pouts, “I created this mess.” 

“But you don’t know the order of the books,” Seonghwa replies as he slots the last book in place with a final swish of his fingers. 

“You’re so peculiar,” Hongjoong mumbles, then he catches the boys staring at them and smiles, “Oh good,” he says to them, “you’re still here!” 

Their mouths remain open. 

“You must have a lot of questions,” Seonghwa starts to stay as he carefully observes their expressions, “and I want to start off by saying-” 

“You’re just like me,” Yeosang interrupts softly, his expression morphing from shock to awe. 

_Well technically no._ Seonghwa wants to say. But the words get stuck in his throat. Yeosang is looking at him with his eyes blown wide and sparkling. A flush of excitement growing on his cheeks as his palm lifts up and curls against his chest as if he needs to physically hold himself together. 

“You have those abilities too,” Yeosang marvels, taking a careful step forward, “I’m not alone.” 

Seonghwa looks over at Hongjoong for help but Hongjoong is too busy staring at Yeosang. His stare soft and filled with kindness, but there is a glimmer of sadness underneath the surface. 

_Yeosang must have felt so alone._ Seonghwa thinks, glancing back at the hopeful expression on the blond’s face. _It must have not been easy, growing up with the power of crushing the world in an instant in your hands. In this world it’s so hard being different, he must have desperately wanted there to be someone like him. Someone like me._

 _But you're not the same,_ another side of Seonghwa argues. _He’s the Destroyer of Worlds and you’re a being akin to an angel._

 _No,_ another voice says, this one sounding awfully like Hongjoong, _he is just a human kid given a destiny too big._

He takes in a shaky breath, “Yes,” he lies, “I’m just like you.” 

“Well,” Hongjoong chimes in, “me too actually,” then he waves his hands for good measure, causing a book on the bookshelf to fly out and hit a wall before cluttering to the floor. 

Yeosang’s hand covers his mouth in surprise, staring at the book on the floor like it is the manifestation of all his dreams. He grabs Wooyoung’s sleeve to pull him away from the door, “They’re just like me. I’m not the only one. Wooyoung I’m not the only one,” he whispers to the other, absolutely gleeful. 

Wooyoung in loss of words could only stare blankly in answer. His eyes flitting between all three of them, his shock slowly wearing off as he takes in Yeosang’s delight.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” Hongjoong repeats Seonghwa’s earlier statement, but again he is interrupted by Yeosang, 

“Are there more of us?” Yeosang asks, shifting from one foot to another in excitement, interrupting again. 

“Yes,” Hongjoong says the same time Seonghwa denies it. 

“Technically yes and no,” Hongjoong fixes the discrepancy, “we know there are more out there. But so for we have only found each other and now, you.” 

Yeosang’s face brightens, “I never thought - I mean I always - I always thought there was just something- something _wrong_ with me.” 

Wooyoung takes personal offence in that statement, staring at Yeosang with a frown. 

“There is nothing wrong with you,” Seonghwa reassures softly, the statement coming quickly and easily to him “you are just different. That’s all. And that’s okay.” 

Wooyoung stares back at Seonghwa with newfound admiration. 

“You know,” Hongjoong carefully says, “we have a spare bedroom upstairs. This might be too forward, but we would be willing to teach you how to use your abilities, and seeing that you two probably have nowhere else to go you could stay with us.” 

Seonghwa tries hard to mask his surprise at the suggestion. He was not expecting this day to end with the Destroyer of the Worlds living with him. But he knows that by refuting the suggestion at the moment he would only cause the already jittery kids to become more anxious. Plus Hongjoong’s constant use of “we” and “our '' in regards to his place confuses him as much as it causes his heart to flutter. 

Yeosang looks three seconds away from eagerly accepting before Wooyoung stops his answer by saying, “How do you know you won’t just kill us or do something worse?” 

Hongjoong’s mouth tilts to a smirk at the accusation, “You saw what we could do, you know what your friend can do. You know that if we wanted to do something to you we would have already done it.” 

Seonghwa suppresses the shiver that runs down his spine at the words. He side glances at Hongjoong, wary of his chosen words and afraid that they have probably scared the younger two off. 

But Wooyoung laughs. A full-blown laugh with his head thrown back as if Hongjoong’s words were hysterical. 

Even Yeosang smiles in amusement. 

_Maybe these kids are insane._

“Well then,” Wooyoung says as his laughter dies down, “my name is Jung Wooyoung. I’ll make sure not to take your hospitality for granted.” 

Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrow at how _old_ the other sounded. 

_Did these two ever even have a chance to be just kids?_

“I’m Kang Yeosang,” Yeosang introduces himself, and a chill runs up Seonghwa’s spine as the name is said out loud, “I look forward to learning from you two.” 

“Kim Hongjoong,” Hongjoong introduces himself back, “and the man next to me is-” 

“Park Seonghwa,” Seonghwa cuts in, “it is a pleasure to meet you two.” 

Hongjoong claps his hands, “Well then that’s settled,” he looks over at Seonghwa, “show them to the room then.” 

Seonghwa gives him a stern look that very clearly says, _“we’re going to have a very lengthy and painful discussion about all this soon,”_ before he turns to the kids and retorts, “follow me.” 

He leads them to a door behind the seating area of the bookstore which brings them to a short corridor with a long-winded narrow staircase leading up. 

“Careful on your way up,” he warns them as he guides them upstairs. 

The setup upstairs is very simple. Unlike the cluttered bookstore downstairs, his living space is fairly empty and only filled with essential furniture. The staircase leads to another hallway with four doors. Three rooms and one bathroom. 

One is Seonghwa’s room, which only had a bed, a night table with a lamp, a chest filled with valuable antiques by his bed and a fairly large wooden wardrobe for all his clothes.

The room on one side was a small kitchen space with an old oven, a huge fridge and a stove, plus a microwave Seonghwa hesitatingly bought a decade ago but now can not live without. There’s a raggedy wooden table with mismatched chairs in the living room area by the kitchen that Seonghwa bought more to fill the space than anything because he usually takes all his food downstairs anyway. 

The room on the other side of Seonghwa is the spare bedroom. Seonghwa could have fashioned it into a storage room but he wanted there to be a place for Hongjoong to stay if he ever happened to come over. Or for any guest really, but it’s not like Seonghwa would invite anyone but Hongjoong to stay for the night. 

The room’s setup is similar to Seonghwa’s bedroom, except there was no chest full of treasures and the wardrobe was smaller. 

It’s a very hastily thrown-together place but for the past few decades, Seonghwa is proud to call it home. 

When Seonghwa opens the door to the room Wooyoung and Yeosang would be staying in, the other two gasp. 

Seonghwa winces, “I know this isn't much-” 

“This room is so nice,” Yeosang compliments, his eyes scouring the place like it’s a palace, even Wooyoung is rendered speechless. 

Seonghwa purses his lips as he watches the two, his mouth itching to ask questions about their past. But he understands, more than anyone, that some things in the past should just be left alone. 

“Take your time getting settled, dinner will be served soon, kitchen is the unlocked room to your right,” he says instead. 

As he closes the door behind him and starts to walk downstairs, he hears the screech of running shoes behind him. He turns around to find Wooyoung staring at him with an unblinking and steadfast gaze. 

“Is everything alright?” Seonghwa inquires softly. 

“What do you two want from us? This doesn’t make any sense, _why_ are you helping us?” Wooyoung vocalizes, his voice strong but his body language indicating anything but. His hands clenched and trembling at his side and his breath shallow as if he had run a marathon. 

Seonghwa’s chest tightens. It’s not like he expected them to trust easily, after all, Hongjoong and he are strangers to the two. But it pains him to think that Wooyoung expects something sinister behind simple hospitality and human decency. 

“Yeosang is very special,” he says, trying to tell as much of the truth as he could, “we just want to help him.” 

Wooyoung doesn’t look convinced, “If you ever try to hurt him -” 

“We won’t,” Seonghwa cuts in, “he’s one of us now,” then after a pause he adds, “and so are you.” 

Wooyoung softens, his sharp and previously bunched-up features relaxing. And it hits Seonghwa how lost the other was. Unlike Yeosang who wore his heart on his sleeve, Wooyoung this entire time had his guard up, afraid to show any emotion of weakness as if it would exploit him somehow. 

But in the narrow space of this old staircase, Wooyoung allows himself the luxury of letting his guard down. 

“I’ll make sure to earn my keep,” Wooyoung conveys firmly, “I’m strong. I can carry books. I am good at cleaning too. I can learn quickly. I can do any work you give me.” 

Seonghwa smiles at him gently, “Of course Wooyoung. Go unpack, I’ll see you at dinner.” 

Wooyoung nods and awkwardly staggers back to his room, the movement causing Seonghwa’s grin to widen. 

But his wide grin falters as he realizes that he now has to face the toughest part of this whole ordeal: figure out what Kim Hongjoong is planning. 

Back downstairs Hongjoong is waiting by the seating area, his legs crossed as he sits on the sofa with his head tilted up to the ceiling and his eyes a mile away. 

Seonghwa clears his throat and Hongjoong looks back down at Seonghwa. For a while they stare at each other in silence, Seonghwa waiting for an explanation and Hongjoong waiting for the inevitable array of questions. 

Seonghwa breaks the silence, but not with a question like Hongjoong expects him to, “You bumped into the bookshelf on purpose,” he accuses. 

Hongjoong raises his eyebrows, “I thought that much was obvious.” 

“Which is why that wasn’t a question,” Seonghwa quips back. 

“Then what is your question?” Hongjoong calmly asks. 

Seonghwa takes in a deep breath, “What are you planning?” 

“Exactly what I said to the two,” Hongjoong answers, “teach Yeosang how to use his abilities. And since Wooyoung and he are a package deal we can just have Wooyoung run us some errands in the meantime.” 

Seonghwa bites his lips, “And?” 

“There is nothing else Seonghwa” 

“Your plan to save the world is just to give Yeosang _lessons_?” 

“If he learns how to use his abilities properly,” Hongjoong patiently explains, “then we could prevent him from using it for something like causing the end the of the world.” 

Seonghwa eyebrows furrow, “I don’t think the prevention of the apocalypse is that simple.” 

Hongjoong shrugs, “Why not?” 

Seonghwa could not argue so he simply moves to the next matter of concern, “You and I will be giving lessons right? So I suppose you will be staying in New York City for the time being?” 

“Of course.” 

“Where will you be staying?” 

Hongjoong stares at Seonghwa like the answer is obvious, “With you, of course.” 

Seonghwa can’t help the bubble of laughter in insanity from escaping him with those words. For years he had practically begged Hongjoong to stay with him; the room he had kept for him collecting dust, and not just in the place he had settled in the past couple of decades. Everywhere he had lived in for centuries he had kept space for Hongjoong, hoping that for at least one day Hongjoong would allow Seonghwa the privilege of staying with him. 

“If I had known,” Seonghwa says between bouts of manic laughter, “that getting you to stay would just require collecting a couple of kids to take care of I would have done that a long time ago.” 

Hongjoong stares at the laughter in confusion, “I don’t understand what’s funny,” he states bluntly. 

Seonghwa’s laughter turns into a soft grin, “Don’t worry, I’m just a fool.” 

_Yes, a fool for you._

Hongjoong does not look convinced, “You are not a fool,” he argues, “and I have never said that I didn’t want to stay with you.” 

Seonghwa’s mouth twists into a frown, “Then why didn’t you?” 

“I didn’t see any reason to,” Hongjoong answers simply, looking away from Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa bites back the fits of manic laughter that threatens to escape him again. Because of course Hongjoong did not see any reason to stay with Seonghwa. Of course he didn’t. 

Before he can do something ridiculous like cry in front of the other or worse, start laughing and sobbing at the same time Seonghwa excuses himself. 

“I will go make dinner now,” he croaks out. 

“Before you go,” Hongjoong says looking around and patting the sofa, oblivious to Seonghwa’s inner turmoil, “can you bring some blankets? This sofa would be perfectly comfy to rest on during the nights.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, my bed is big enough for the both of us,” Seonghwa says automatically. Even while nursing an aching heart caused by Hongjoong himself he could not allow Hongjoong to rest on a sofa. 

Hongjoong flushes at the prospect, but Seonghwa pays no attention to that. His mind repeating the way Hongjoong had easily told Seonghwa that he found no reason to stay with him. 

“I do not need such a sacrifice,” Hongjoong laughs weakly, “I will be fine on the sofa.” 

“I do not think of it as a sacrifice,” Seonghwa retorts distractedly, “I enjoy your presence. Even if you may not enjoy mine.” 

And with that, he heads upstairs to get dinner ready. 

Wooyoung plops on the bed the moment they get in the room with a huge sigh, his body practically melting onto the soft mattress that eagerly welcomed him, “That’s the best dinner I have ever had,” he says into the pillow. 

Yeosang hums in agreement, his stomach as full and warm as the other's. He shuffles through the slight mess they made in the bedroom with the varying things that they unpacked, searching for a change of clothes and toothbrush. 

“You know,” Wooyoung continues, his voice muffled due to the pillow he was speaking against, “the first sign of these guys being psychopaths we’re leaving.” 

While looking for some pyjamas Yeosang pauses in thought, his deliberation is short though as his heart is already final about what he feels, “I think they’re good people,” he says firmly after a few seconds of silence. 

Wooyoung snorts at the comment, “You trust too easily.” 

Yeosang cannot deny that but he highly doubts that his trust is misplaced in this situation so while reaching over to grab his toothbrush on the nightstand drawer he rolls his eyes at the accusation. 

“I know you think so too,” he states, “Otherwise we would be out of here by now.” 

Wooyoung lifts his head away from the pillow, looking awfully disgruntled and messy causing Yeosang’s mouth to tilt in a teasing smile. Wooyoung, however, does not pay much attention to Yeosang’s amusement of his appearance as a sudden thought had entered his head causing him to jolt up. 

“What do you think their relationship is?” he asks Yeosang, his voice dripping with curiosity. 

Surprised at the sudden change in subject Yeosang could only ask back, “Whose?” 

“Hongjoong and Seonghwa.” 

Yeosang shrugs because, in all honesty, he has no clue. To him, they held an air of energy that could only be akin to lovers but interacted like close acquaintances at best. 

Wooyoung sits up, his eyebrows furrowed in thought, “Cause they seem close but they were barely talking during dinner.” 

Yeosang pouts in thought. It was incredibly strange that the two had made more conversation with Yeosang and Wooyoung than each other. He doesn’t even recall them looking at each other once during dinner. Which was a huge contrast to how they were behaving before. 

Wooyoung tilts his head, “Maybe they got into a fight?” he wonders. 

Yeosang ponders that sentence for a while and a thought enters his head which causes the blood to drain from his face, “Maybe they were fighting about letting us stay,” he mournfully suggests, “Maybe one of them thinks it would be a burden to have us stay here. ” 

Wooyoung shakes his head vigorously, immediately denying that thought, “I highly doubt that. They _like_ you. You’re like their mini magic apprentice. They were practically hovering over you during dinner, asking you to eat this and that.” 

Yeosang’s cheeks colour red at the statement, “And you,” he retorts back, “Seonghwa gave you his share of food when he saw you shovel your down like you haven’t eaten for decades.” 

Wooyoung flushes red as well, more due to the fact that Yeosang called out his eating habits rather than the implication that Seonghwa had already formed an attachment to him, “I was hungry,” he defends. 

“Whatever it is they’ll get over it.” Yeosang decides simply, figuring that if they were to continue throwing theories they would be at it forever, “Afterall, the aura they give off...it’s like they have known each other for decades” 

With that Yeosang throws his change of clothes over his shoulder and excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving Wooyoung to stare at the wall in contemplation. 

“Yeah,” he says softly to the air after a couple of minutes, a chill running down his spine for reasons unknown to him, “it’s like they have known each other for _centuries_.” 

When Seonghwa enters his room he sees Hongjoong sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. The sight itself causes a slight twinge in his chest, and it doesn’t help that Hongjoong is sitting in complete darkness. 

But he tries not to feel sorry for the other as his own feelings were not left untouched with the words they had said to each other hours ago. After a dinner in which he refused to speak or look at Hongjoong, the other doing the same, Seonghwa had quickly excused himself out of the room while telling the kids that he had some organizing to do downstairs. 

Seonghwa had spent a couple of hours uselessly staring at his books before he willed himself to come back upstairs, knowing that he can not hide away in his own house. 

Giving himself some time to wallow in his own feelings left him drained so he could only sigh at the sight of Hongjoong. 

He switches on the light, “There’s a light switch here,” he informs the other as he does so. 

His voice does not come as emotionless as he wants it to, instead it’s cracking. Because it’s the first words he had said to the other in hours despite the fact that they were in the same vicinity and Seonghwa allows himself to be bothered by that, even though his stubbornness in being silently frustrated at the other remains. 

Hongjoong’s head snaps up at the words and as the light quickly fills the room he blinks rapidly for his eyes to adjust to the brightness. When his eyes land on Seonghwa’s figure he straightens, his eyes trailing the other as Seonghwa walks over to the nightstand and undoes the watch around his wrist. 

Seonghwa can feel Hongjoong burning holes through his body with his gaze but he does not turn in his direction. Keeping his eyes on his watch as he sets it down on the nightstand he asks, “Are you planning on sleeping? If not I can switch on the night lamp and you can read to entertain yourself through the night.” 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong starts to say, his voice as disoriented as Seonghwa feels. But despite the other calling his name Seonghwa does not face him. Instead, he sits at the edge of the other side of his bed, his back facing the other as pulls his leg towards himself to take his socks off. 

The nonchalant attitude sets Hongjoong off, in frustration he snaps, “It would be incredibly difficult to stay in the same room as you if you refuse to look at me.” 

Seonghwa doesn’t reply, finding his socks suddenly very interesting as he slowly puts them aside. 

Hongjoong huffs, his frustration withering away as quickly as it had come and replaced with exhaustion, in a low voice he comments, “If you are going to be like this I will just go back downstairs and rest on the sofa for the nights instead.” 

“You would hate it,” Seonghwa says without hesitation, “the sofa is very uncomfortable to lay on.” 

Hongjoong takes in a deep breath, “It wouldn’t be more uncomfortable than this situation.” 

Seonghwa sighs again. 

Like a matchstick Hongjoong’s frustration catches on fire quickly again, “Seonghwa if you sigh one more time -”, he starts to threaten. 

“What did you mean when you said that you found no reason to stay with me?” Seonghwa asks abruptly, a sudden burst of bravery entering him. If Hongjoong wants to have a proper conversation with him, he’s going to give him a _conversation_. After centuries of beating around the bush, it is not surprising that one would lose patience. 

Hongjoong is rendered mute by the question and Seonghwa is incredibly tempted to turn and see the expression on Hongjoong’s face. But his stubbornness wins over and his eyes remain on the floor. 

Right when the silence was becoming unbearable, Seonghwa hears footsteps. For one horrifying second, Seonghwa thinks Hongjoong is walking out the room and his heart drops to his stomach. But the footsteps come closer instead, and the bed dips next to him. 

Seonghwa keeps his eyes glued to the floor despite the fact that Hongjoong’s warmth due to their proximity is practically burning him. Their thighs are slightly touching, and their ankles are one small movement away from being tangled with each other. 

“I meant what I said,” Hongjoong says softly as he peers at the other, “that I do not find any reason to stay.” 

A lump forms in Seonghwa’s throat and his fists clench at the words, “Do you not realize,” he bites out, “how _cruel_ that sounds?” 

Hongjoong breaths out in exasperation, as if it is _his_ feelings that are getting hurt by this conversation, “N-not l-like that - I do not know h-how- I…” he stammers, to steady himself he takes in another deep breath and continues, “just considering the consequences... there was never a _good_ enough reason to stay with you… until now I guess.” 

Seonghwa’s nails dig into his palm, the more they delve into this topic the worse it gets and Seonghwa regrets bringing it up entirely. But it bothers him to not have the last word and so he bitterly replies, “Nice to know that at least the end of the world is a good enough reason for you.” 

He expects the conversation to end there. Like many of the quarrels they go through, this one would remain unfinished and abandoned, leaving both parties with more questions than answers. For almost immortal beings with centuries of experience of living they had surprisingly little exposure to actually dealing with feelings. Both of them tell themselves that dealing with feelings and emotions is too human. 

But to Seonghwa’s surprise, Hongjoong does not just abandon their conversation. Instead, Seonghwa hears the other take a sharp intake of breath, and lean towards him.

Hongjoong's hand slowly rises to rest on top of the other’s clenched fist. With a touch as gentle as the flutter of butterfly wings, he grazes his thumb across Seonghwa’s knuckles. 

Seonghwa’s breath catches as he feels the other’s touch, his surprise causing him to finally look up at Hongjoong. He sees the other stare down at their hands, the tips of his ears growing red. Seonghwa feels a similar flush appear on his cheeks, his body incredibly still as he’s afraid of making any movement that would cause this moment to disappear and make Hongjoong’s touch go away. 

“Your hands are so pretty,” Hongjoong murmurs nonsensically, the words slipping out of his mouth without meaning to. But he doesn’t take his words back and Seonghwa’s heart beats wildly in his chest as watches the flush from Hongjoong’s ears reach his cheeks. 

Suddenly, Seonghwa feels like he’s being incredibly unfair to the other. Hongjoong doesn’t owe him anything. If he doesn’t feel the need to stay with Seonghwa, then that’s the way it is and Seonghwa should just be grateful that he has Hongjoong by his side at all. Hongjoong trusts him despite Seonghwa’s literal existence being created to spy on Hongjoong from the beings that banished him for his ideology. 

The fact that Hongjoong is here sitting beside him with his hand on his is already more than enough, and more than what Seonghwa deserves. He feels incredibly selfish for asking more. 

Just as he’s about to express that sentiment to the other, Hongjoong's thumb that was grazing his knuckles come to a pause but his hands still remain on top of the other’s. 

“I do not have as much control as you do Seonghwa,” Hongjoong whispers under his breath, his eyes still glued to their joined hands. 

That statement confuses Seonghwa greatly, with furrowed eyebrows he asks the other, “Whatever do you mean? You are the most controlled being that I know.” 

Hongjoongs laughs, the sound humourless and low as his hand moves away from Seonghwa. Seonghwa mourns the loss of the touch, but he manages to keep himself from reaching over and grabbing the other’s hand again even though he aches for the warmth to return. 

Hongjoong looks up Seonghwa’s questioning and lost gaze, his eyes unblinking and searching as if it’s Seonghwa that needs to elaborate. 

But Seonghwa does not know what to say, much less what Hongjoong wants him to say. 

Hongjoong shuffles slightly, putting a bit more distance between them and looks away. This time his eyes boring unto the wall in front of him as if it were anything but a blank white wall. 

“Unfortunately,” he murmurs, his voice simmering with emotion that Seonghwa cannot comprehend, “not when it comes to you.”

Seonghwa stills at the words. 

“If I had allowed myself to stay with you before,” Hongjoong continues quietly, still staring at the wall, “I would have not been able to leave.” 

Seonghwa swallows, his heart beating wildly at the words and the familiar urge to touch the other returns but he holds still. 

“And why would that be a bad thing,” Seonghwa chokes out in the stillness, “if you were to never leave me?” 

Hongjoong shakes his head as if Seonghwa had just asked him a ridiculous question. Perhaps, it was a ridiculous question, but it is one that Seonghwa did not know the answer to regardless. 

Hongjoong stands up abruptly, and Seonghwa swallows down words that would beg Hongjoong to return back to the conversation and actually give him answers for once. 

Seonghwa just lets it go like he always does. 

“I’m going to go get a book from downstairs to read for the night,” Hongjoong says as he walks to the door and turns off the light, “you should sleep, I know you prefer it.” 

Seonghwa sighs and rubs his face when the door closes. The tiredness seeps into him slowly, making him ache in more places than his heart. 

He reaches over and turns on the night lamp before plopping on the side of the bed that’s away from the light. He tries to close his eyes and rest, but he couldn’t will himself to sleep till he hears the door creak and soft footsteps enter. There’s a dip to the mattresses and Seonghwa feels Hongjoong’s warmth next to him. 

The soft crinkle of pages turning lures him to sleep, and as gets pulled into slumber he feels a gentle hand slowly comb through his hair, but surely he had imagined it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed the chapter <3 
> 
> also pls download whosfans and create accounts to support ateez on kingdom (each account is given one voting ticket that they can use for a group). their first performance is on feb 23rd 8 pm kst, and the voting period is from 8:15-9:15 pm kst. let's support them as much as we can! 
> 
>   
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/starlightstars_)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/starlightstarshine)  
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